Never Before
by Mrs. Witter
Summary: Tristan is losing his mind and Rory thinks it's pretty funny.


**Disclaimer: **Don't own them. Song is Eva Cassidy's _Songbird_.

**Pairings: **Tristan/Rory

**Rating:** PG-13

**Parts:** 1/1

**Author's Note:** I wrote this for a challenge awhile back, just thought I'd put it up.

**Things to include:**

• power loss  
• dancing  
• currently dating/engaged/married  
• ice cream  
• candles

**Things not to include:**

• Dean/Logan/Jess/Summer... how about just no mention of past relationships?  
• OOC  
• sappy/overly clichéd/ultra fluffiness

**Never Before**

"Hey," Rory greeted her boyfriend of almost nine months as he walked into the apartment they shared in Boston. The charcoal grey suit he was wearing was rumpled, the tie loosened and the jacket hung over his arm. Even after all this time, she still felt her heart trip in her chest at the sight of him. "How was your night?"

He looked around the living room, the lights were on low and scented candles were lit all over the room, there was a pint of Ben & Jerry's on the coffee table and something soft – was that Eva Cassidy? – was playing on low in the background. Then he shifted his gaze to her and took in her messy appearance; faded shorts, white tank (no bra), sloppy bun kept together with a weird pencil shaped pin he had yet to learn the word for and bare feet. Good Lord, she was still as adorably sexy as ever.

Flashes of the long limbs, tight abs and perfect bosom bared to him all night paraded through his mind and his winced, guiltily. And that only made him angrier. Voice tight, he answered. "I've had better."

She frowned and put one hand on her hip. "Tristan, you were at a bachelor party. You know, for your cousin. Hard liquor, loose women and all that jazz and all you can say is you've had better?"

"I know what a bachelor party is, Rory." He draped his jacket over a chair in the dining area and ran a hand through his hair. "Or at least I used to."

Rory took a step closer to him and touched his arm. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," he answered shortly as the low lights flickered off. "The hell?"

"They've been doing that for the last couple of hours," she answered with a shrug. "Hence the candles. Then I sort of liked the atmosphere so I kept them on low and threw myself my own little party. Even got some writing done, if you can believe it."

"Well go you." He turned away from her. "This is intolerable. I'm calling the super."

"Tristan," she replied, surprised by his agitation. He had left for the party in high spirits, ready to spend "a night with the boys" and she hadn't expected him to come home angry. She had expected him to come home like any other red-blooded American male: drunk and covered in stripper's perfume and lipstick. She had spent hours making peace with that particular scenario. "What's going on? Did something happen at the party?"

"No, nothing happened at the party," he answered with a bitter laugh, the shadows cast by the flickering candles, giving him an eerie look. "Believe me, nothing happened. Nothing at all."

"Well," she let the word roll off her tongue slowly. She didn't want him to hear the glee in her voice at his revelation. "Okay."

"No!" he shouted suddenly, taking a step closer. "No! It's not okay. It. Is. Not. Okay."

"What?" she asked, shaking her head and wrapping her arms loosely over her stomach; he was starting to creep her out with that maniacal gleam in his eye. "You're not making any sense, Tristan."

"You wanna know why I'm upset?" he asked, spreading his arms out on either side of him, in a dramatic gesture. "Fine, I'll tell you. There I was at Adrian's party, the alcohol was flowing and the music was blaring and at one point, someone even brought out their father's porno collection."

"I bet it was Colin."

He ignored her. "And there I was, with my friends, feeling like I was sixteen again -"

"Ah, the good old days." Now, he glared at her. "Sorry. Continue."

"And then the main event."

"The strippers."

"Exotic dancers," he answered indignantly. "Anyway, there they were, barely dressed woman, writhing and wriggling and gyrating and thrusting and…"

"I get the picture, Tristan," Rory deadpanned. "And I'm sorry I asked."

"No, no, that's what you don't get, Gilmore," he replied, grabbing her arm and pulling her to him. "There they were, these women throwing there luscious bodies at me and damn it, all I could do was think of you." Her eyes widened at his admission and she had to bite her bottom lip from curving at the look of utter disdain on his face. "And it wasn't even in the guilty, "shit, I don't think Rory would like this" way. I stood there like an idiot with a woman taking off her fucking clothes _right in front of me_ and all I really wanted to do was come home to you."

Keeping her face straight, she said, "Oh."

With an annoyed huff, he shook his head. There he was, annoyed and feeling like a lunatic as it was and she was standing there, in the dim light, smiling, damn it, laughing at him with her eyes and she still managed to look irresistible. Jesus, Adrian was right: he was so fucking gone. "This isn't funny."

"I'm not laughing."

"Yeah, not to my face," he answered bitterly. "I used to rule parties like this. They were my specialty. Hell, I was the freakin' King, okay? This has never happened to me before. And tonight, there was this one brunette who took an instant… liking to me and instead of focusing on those gorgeous C-cup breasts I stared at her face and for a minute there, I thought I saw you. _You_!"

This time, Rory did giggle. "Aw, baby, I'm oddly flattered."

He ran a hand over his face. "Gilmore…"

With a smile, she put a placating hand on his chest. "If it makes you feel any better, I was at Mom's last weekend, she was ogling the new yard boy and she kept saying he had an ass like cement and all I kept thinking was, 'Eh, it's good. But Tristan's is way better.'"

Despite himself, Tristan felt a smirk tugging the corner of his mouth. "You're making that up."

She ran her hands lightly up his arms and let them rest, entwined, at his nape and he rested his hands on her hips, clutching the material of her tank in his fists. Softly, she kissed his cheek. "Upon my honor."

He sighed against her hair. "I'm losing my mind."

"A little bit," she answered with a low chuckle. As CD she had put on repeat started over again and she pulled away, smiling. "I think she's playing our song."

Rory rested her head against Tristan's shoulder and swayed gently to the music, her hands resting between his shoulder blades and moving slowly, in a soothing motion. He sighed, kissed the top of her head and thought, _So far gone_.

_For you there'll be no crying  
For you the sun will be shining  
'Cause I feel that when I'm with you  
It's alright, I know it's right_

"Tristan?"

"Hmm?"

"Gorgeous C-cup breasts, huh?"

His eyes shot open and he shrugged. "I don't really remember, uh, all that…well. I wasn't looking, really. I guessed. Yours are way better."

"Right."

_And I love you, I love you, I love you_

_Like never before_

The End


End file.
